"
"How?"
"You refused to give me a hint. You threw me down hard, on my
own resources. I saw all those hundreds of people demanding that
Gridley win," retorted Dave. "What could I do? I had to make
the fellows do something like what they've been doing under Dick
Prescott, or confess myself a dub. I couldn't lean on a word
from you, Dick. So you fairly drove me into planning something
that would either carry off the game or make us look like chromos
of football players. You wouldn't say a word, Prescott, that
would take any of the blame on yourself! So didn't you force
me to win!"
"That's ingenious, but not convincing," retorted Dick, as the
two chums stepped into dressing quarters. "To tell you the truth,
Dave, I think a good many people now believe that you ought to
be the regular captain."
But Darrin only grinned. He knew better.
Some of the fellows tried to praise Fenton to his face.
"Quit! You can't get away with that," chuckled the fast little
left end. "Some one had to take that ball and drop it behind
Hallam's goal line. I was the one who was ordered to do it.
If I hadn't, what would you fellows have said about me?"
By the time that the Hallam Heights young men were dressed several
of them came to the Gridley quarters, Forsythe at their head.
"We want to shake hands," laughed Forsythe, "and to make sure
that you have no hard feelings for what we tried to do to you.
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